Nighttime
by Eykiel
Summary: After dreaming a very vivid dream, a vexed Phantom flees to the only place he knows to find solace. (Phan/Lumi, Phan/Freud)


Phantom ruled the nights, not the mornings. It helped conceal him when even his stealth wasn't enough, helped him melt into the shadows even if he was wearing his blazing white military uniform, and it was better for the press, after all. What more could anyone want than the perfect image to represent the Master Thief – his slender build, framed by his grand billowing cape and the sharp beak of his raven mask, blocking out the silver platter of the moon?

And besides. Mornings were for sleeping in after a night of hunting and gathering.

_Ah_, mused Phantom, as he squatted on a windowsill, watching a figure curled up in bed, _But some things were always worth sacrificed sleep._

The man looked so peaceful, nothing like the mage he knew.

– – – – : – – – –

'Good morning, sunshine!'

With a twirl of his cane he had the door slam open. He ambled into the bedroom, the grin on his face growing infinitely wider as the mage spasmed in bed and sat up sharply with a startled yelp.

'W-wha?'

He couldn't resist the momentary confusion that settled over his victim's sleepy countenance, or the teasing, especially with the sour looks he knew would follow. Unlocking the door had been child's play. Anyone could break in if they had so much as a bobby pin – much less he, the conqueror of locks, the Master Thief Phantom!

'Oh, not _you_, Phantom.'

Cue his signature flourish and his signature bow. 'At your service, Sunshine –'

'I told you not to call me that, pesky thief!' the silver-haired magician snarled, ignoring the sleep in his eyes. Phantom didn't miss the way he pulled the covers slightly closer to him. 'What are you doing in my room? And at such a senseless time, no less?'

_Senseless time?_ Phantom walked up to perch on the bed, leaving the door wide open. At one point in time he wouldn't have imagined the Light Mage to be a fan of sleeping in, given the way he always bustled about working on some _very important light magic_, etcetera, etcetera… yet now that he had swung by his house on several mornings, he was simply more amused at the way Luminous was always too tired to peel himself from his bed.

That's where he came in, see?

'Well, Sunshine –'

'Stop calling me that, pesky thief.'

'– the world is already up and about, and you're still here lazing it away.' He loved the look of indignation on the mage's face. 'You should really thank me for popping by to –'

The Master Thief would have missed the moving foot if he didn't know better. But he did, and he leaped out of the way as he did every time, grinning widely.

'Popping by? Just _popping by_?' The Light Mage made a sound of exasperation and pulled the covers over his head again. 'This time you have truly lost your sanity. It is but eight in the morning…' Phantom chuckled and began to whistle, some tuneless string of notes that he knew drove the magician crazy, and he wondered how long he would put up with it this time. Luminous continued talking as if the sound didn't bother him at all – which it did. 'Why would you choose to bother me rather than that dragon master? _He_ has more patience for your tomfoolery.'

Such manners. The Mage needed to learn some, truly he did. Especially since he had gone out of his way to give his morning call. 'My, my, Sunshine. Why don't you appreciate my glorious presence? I flew my Lumiere to your home even…'

To the silence that ensued, he picked up the whistle from where he left off, realizing that he was striking the tune of a piece that would drive the mage insane. _You are my sunshine, _he grinned as best as he could while keeping his lips in shape, _my only sunshine…_ and he knew that the Light Mage was fuming under the covers, nursing a strong urge to set the thief on fire.

'Cease that infernal whistling, Phantom.'

However, Luminous had every right to be as upset as he was now. The last time Phantom had called Gaston and his maids to the house, they had washed every scrap of fabric owned by the light mage, dusted every shelf, sent him to the bath (twice, because the first time he was done, Marianne decided that there was still some dirt behind his ears) and then stocked his kitchen to overflowing with food.

Luminous would send a beam of searing light at Phantom by way of greeting for a few days following that.

_You make me happy, when skies are grey...__  
_

'Before I rip your voice box from your throat –'

'_You'll never know dear, how much I love you,' _Phantom howled the next line, allowing his voice to shift horrifically off key as he pirouetted onto the bed and spun his cane to wield it like a microphone.

'If you are attempting to serenade me then you should not be trying to deafen me,' Luminous poked his head out of the covers with an enraged look that Phantom also found completely endearing.

It was what he had been waiting for. In less than a heartbeat Phantom had shifted and caught the mage's chin with the head of his cane, angling it upwards so he could see those oddly colored eyes so much clearer.

Luminous froze, his face a mixture of horror and disgust.

'Please don't take my _Sunshine_ a –' Phantom broke off mid-chorus to tut at the fidgeting pile on the bed. '–wait, which reminds me. I even had breakfast made and everything. So you really should come down before the food turns cold –'

The mage's horror was palpable in the air, with the thought of a feast that he couldn't finish and would have to pick at for days. 'You, used, my, kitchen, without, prior, permission?' he almost shrieked.

Phantom held up an orange card, smirking so widely his cheeks hurt. 'And I found your stash of cookies, Mister Sweet Tooth,' he laughed, and through the maelstrom of cards that rose up around him, he plainly saw the mage jump out of bed and swipe at him.

He would only find air between his fingers.

Safely in the kitchen, Phantom huffed at his fringe. Really… even the furniture in this house seemed neglected. Luminous was a demanding mage, more meticulous and particular than any of the other heroes, but somehow his kitchen said otherwise. Only one of the chairs was consistently used and the others had a sheen of dust on them. The light mage lived alone and rarely cooked or used his kitchen, but one could always judge a man by how well-kept his house was at any point of time (which was why Phantom made sure his flying ship was always _always _spick and span). The master thief shrugged. It made for passing the time, though, drawing smiley faces into the table, a stick figure with one bigger eye labelled _STUFFY PANTZ, _little stars and masks.

Finally he heard the pounding of feet and looked up to see Luminous skid to a halt at the base of the stairs. Phantom smiled and gestured with an air of nonchalance. 'Come now, Sunshine. So late and still dawdling?'

He knew what had caused the light mage's jaw to drop. He knew what he was seeing. The kitchen, in a complete mess – cups and plates strewn everywhere, the saucepans all dirtied, the spatula lying on the ground, aforementioned cookie jar raided and emptied (oops), water spilled on the counter top, and two ruined teabags strung over the tap. It wasn't that he couldn't cook, but he loved making messes that the light mage would have to clear later on.

Luminous's left eye, the blood red one that Phantom couldn't keep his eyes off, twitched violently.

'Here, I made breakfast!' Two plates sat on the table, across each other, a simple sandwich lying on each one. Accompanying them were two cups of foamy coffee – which he had asked Gaston to bring down after he realized that Luminous only had soured milk, but the mage didn't need to know that.

The light mage leaned a hand on the wall to support himself. 'You have turned my kitchen into a war zone… for _sandwiches,_' he whispered, looking like he was ready to kill a thousand demons, have their guts for breakfast, and come back for seconds.

'What would you do without me, Sunshine?' he chuckled.

'_What would I do without you_, you ask…' the mage growled, the eye flashing crimson. He whirled on Phantom, hands reaching out to throttle him. 'I'll show you _what_, you pesky thief…'

Phantom blinked, smirking, ducking under the outstretched arms, coming up between them, and so close to Luminous's face that the mage halted in surprise. Surely Luminous hadn't expected to be faster than he? Nobody had ever come close to catching Phantom, or matching his amazing speed. Grinning, the thief stole a heartbeat to stare into those mismatched orbs, admiring their sheen. And with a fearless wink, he tapped Luminous on the cheek. 'Your eye is glowing again.'

Luminous pushed the thief away, trying very hard to slow his breathing.

'Was it something I said?' Phantom smirked, tucking into his food. He took a huge bite of his sandwich (which tasted horrible, but he'd let Luminous figure that out for himself) and let the mage study the kitchen, reading the baffled look on his face and knowing he wouldn't do anything to harm him.

'You look so mad, Sunshine. I said I flew the Lumiere here, but I didn't mention anything about my envoy.' He drank deeply from the cup of coffee, partially to chase away the taste of that horrible sandwich. 'I know how much you detested me the last time I did that. So I didn't.'

There it was, a flicker of something unreadable across the mage's face. Hmm, that was odd, but nothing of much concern, so he pretended not to notice. With a slight sigh Luminous murmured something under his breath and sat heavily into his chair.

'What's that? You know, if you wanted to say something, you should say it outright.' He cupped a hand around his ear. 'You don't have to be shy around me.'

Luminous tore a chunk from his sandwich with too much force, and glared at him, the soft expression replaced with something very much like annoyance. Well, that was the end of that moment. Phantom knew whatever the mage said next would be nothing like what he was murmuring earlier. And he was right.

'You have coffee all over your face.'

Phantom blinked. With the mage's intense gaze on him, he removed his white glove and pulled out his gold embroidered silk handkerchief to dab at his face.

'Pesky little monster,' smirked Luminous bitterly. 'Still drinking like a child.'

'So much venom? You wound me to the quick.' He lowered his handkerchief. 'Done?'

Luminous shook his head and Phantom wished there was a clean pot to check his reflection in.

'Tch. A master thief that cannot even steal some decent manners.'

He was aware of the mage's footsteps, and he then felt his chair turned to face the mage. Luminous, looking too uncomfortable to be healthy, snatched the handkerchief from his fingers. The poor mage deserved some credit for his bravery and for doing his best to ignore Phantom's piercing gaze as he worked.

There had always been something soft in him. He knew it for sure. And in times like this, all the hassle and singed clothes were definitely worth it.

Phantom gripped Luminous by the wrist. The light mage twitched. 'I am not finished, Master Thief. Kindly let me resume my work.'

The master thief smiled. 'How is such offhandedness enough to repay someone who made you such an elaborate breakfast, hmm?'

Phantom was awarded with a furious rush of red to the mage's face. 'Wha – but – you – That was hardly _anything _elaborate!' he snarled. 'I could make something ten times more appetizing! It tasted like rotten fish and mouldy cheese –'

'Ah. But you finished every morsel.'

When Luminous glanced guiltily at his empty plate, Phantom tugged him closer, smiling calmly at his tensed expression. 'Come now, Sunshine. At least help me clean off this cream… or indulge me with an grudging _Thank you, pesky thief_.'

Phantom found it hard to maintain his cool exterior as the light mage struggled. 'I refuse! Damned, pesky thief! Unhand me this instant!'

The master thief did not.

'The next time I get my hands on my weapon, I will burn your silhouette into the ground!' Luminous snapped, still thrashing, but somehow his wrist stayed caught around Phantom's fingers. 'I will not thank you, not if you are going to wrestle it out of me like this!'

And that was all Phantom needed. With a flick of his arm, he shifted the mage off balance and with a cry, they collided face to face.

The two pulled apart, Luminous with a horrified gasp, and Phantom very disappointed that their lips did not connect.

He calmly extracted his handkerchief from his pocket and deftly wiped off every bit of cream. He could feel every smear, especially the dollop he'd left for Luminous on his upper lip. What, did the mage think he didn't know? Everyone called him vain – but _handsome_, and of course he had maintained that reputation by being aware of everything that was on his face. Of course he'd known about the cream. He was the master thief Phantom. He calculated every move. He planned all his heists in advance.

Although... admittedly, he needed to brush up on his trajectory skills.

Luminous staggered to his feet, red eye glowing the color of death, but looking even more endearing with the smear of cream across his cheek from the contact. Phantom smiled, adjusting the raven mask on his head.

'You missed a spot, Luminous,' he purred.

'Leave my house at once,' was all the mage had time to whisper before the red tendrils leaked around his eye, and Phantom knew his time was up.

With a laugh and a wink, the cards swirled up around him, obscuring that indignant face for what he knew wasn't the last time, and then he was gone.

– – – – : – – – –

Phantom sat up in bed, panting. He ran through the events in his mind, more and more horrified with each and every moment he walked himself through. It was definitely an attraction, definitely a desire for the man in white magician gear.

No. Not Luminous. Not Luminous _of all people. _Luminous was the last one he wanted to feel this way for. These feelings were reserved for Aria, and for… Who cared? He didn't. All he cared about was that those feelings were reserved for anyone other than Luminous.

Just a dream, just a dream, he murmured, the revulsion eating him up from the base of his stomach. It was only just a dream. And even if it wasn't he could always steal his way out of it, right?

Then he realised another reason why he was so perturbed.

_Why was one of Luminous's eyes glowing red?_

Those eyes. One the color of death, one the color of ice... for some strange, unimaginable reason. Nonsense, he growled under his breath, the Light Mage had two eyes like the color of frozen fish. There was no reason for one of them to randomly turn red like that. And such a sickening shade, too... Phantom fretted, and tossed, and turned. He could feel that bloodied eye boring into him as he lay in bed, and even under his goosefeather comforter he felt so exposed.

Premonition didn't exist, right? Phantom told himself he wouldn't believe it anyway and dismissed his fears. Just a weird discoloration. Dreams were merely figments of the imagination after all. Images supplied by the mind to deceive the mind.

But beyond that strangely hued pupil... Why had he dreamed such dreams about_ Luminous?_ Why couldn't he have dreamed of Aran (tanned ladies were not his type, and neither were those capable of snapping him in half) or Mercedes (oh, that elven queen... her pompous and holier-than-thou attitude always put him on edge somehow) or_ god forbid_ Gaston (gods the idea of having that wizened old geezer nagging at him as a housewife sent a chill through him). Phantom flipped over and yelled profanities into his pillow. The damned light mage _Luminous_ was miles away and he was safe on his Lumiere and there was no way the mage would be watching him at this time, right? For it was just a dream, and Luminous would rather die then step foot in his ship, and would rather roast him to a crisp than have them kiss.

Phantom shuddered. Thank goodness they hadn't, not even in the dream. He wouldn't have forgiven himself.

He got up, turned on the lights to chase away the darkness, but in every shadow, in every red ruby and in every blue sapphire, that strange asymmetrical Luminous haunted him. Hoping to leave his fears at the bottom of a bottle, he flung open the doors to his alcohol cabinet and drank deeply from the decanter of red wine, ignoring the fact that the liquid was a certain familiar shade.

The alcohol warmed his insides like coffee and he nearly threw it up in his sudden nausea.

Phantom set it down and breathed deeply. He didn't have feelings for Luminous… he had feelings… for… for? …

'_Enough_,' he snapped out loud. This was no way for a master thief to behave. He was composure. He was calm. Coins running through his fingers. Coolness of golden chains on his palms. Gemstones. Crystals. Orbs. What time was it? Four thirty in the morning, too late to do anything, too early for dawn to break any time soon.

But even at this time, there was someplace he could go. He grabbed his raven mask and donned his cape. He knew where to rid himself of this illogicality.

– – – – : – – – –

It was another house at the edge of another patch of trees, smaller than the first but to Phantom, more welcoming. As he always did, this time as he always truly did, he stopped at the line of the trees, reveling in the shadows as he scanned each window for signs of life. Satisfied to have found none, he stole around the yard, circling around until he came to the back, and then leapt up the walls in almost inhuman speed, leaving the soft imprints of his insignia in the wall where he trod. He knew which shingles rattled and which were loose, and with practiced ease he skirted the edge of the roof, coming to a halt directly above one of the windows.

There wasn't a sound. _There better not be any_, he murmured to himself under his breath, squatting to grip the shingles with his fingers before he swung himself carelessly off, the momentum carrying him to land deftly on the edge of the windowsill, a cat in the moonlight. He had done this so many times before that he knew the exact distance the roof was from the windowsill, how he needed to hunch just a little so he wouldn't lose his center of balance, how to position his feet to get the best grip from the narrow windowsill.

Now that he thought about it, this was the same windowsill that he had found himself on in his dream. But it sure as hell didn't belong at the damned Light Mage's house. It belonged here, to –

The small flame of a candle bathed the room in light. Phantom froze.

Before him, holding a candlestick by its base in one hand and a match in another, stood a man in red robes.

'Oh, it's you, Phantom,' murmured Freud, owner of the house with the familiar windowsill, the only man who could tread softer than the best thief in the world.

'At your service.' Phantom smiled, without thinking, his brain having abruptly ceased its writhing train of thoughts and leaving him with a canvas of ocean blue. He hopped onto the ground, feeling strangely awake now that he was back here, in the dusty old library he used to berate Freud for not leaving, finding solace from Freud's books in their just being there, instead of having to read the titles of Luminous' collection. So many countless times he had offered to grace the dusty library with new bookcases or a grand velvet carpet or redo the wallpaper but for some strange reason the scholar would always flatly turn him down without hesitation. Why he found comfort in Freud's dreary old house was truly beyond him.

'And as to exactly what I would require your services for, Master Thief, is beyond me.' Freud set the candle down on the mantle, which Freud insisted had character but Phantom found horrifically out-of-date. It didn't match his desk, or the furniture in the house. 'Especially at this senseless time.'

The symmetry of the conversation made Phantom shiver on the inside. He hoped it didn't show, and that the Dragon Master would not notice.

'Ah. You see –'

'Would you like a cup of tea?'

Phantom was pulled abruptly from his train of thought, feeling foolishly like Luminous did when he was tapped on the cheek. This is Freud, not that damned mage Luminous, he chided himself inwardly, and in the few seconds of silence that had lapsed he knew it was long enough for Freud to realise something was wrong.

He remembered to pull his smirk back onto his face as the scholar ambled over to his desk. Languidly he slotted a bookmark into the tome he had been pouring over before his guest had popped by.

Tea? Something as warm as coffee would probably put him on edge a second time that night. And he didn't want any more reminders. 'I don't think I –'

'Tea calms the nerves.' Freud, eyes lidded from a heavy-going night, was suddenly beside him, one hand around his wrist and pulling him along. Phantom didn't put up any protestations as he was led down the stairs and to the couch.

Without another word, Freud deposited the suddenly-quiet thief into the pile of cushions. Phantom watched as the scholar stifled a yawn on his way into the kitchen. Freud had known, immediately, that something was wrong, and something was eating at his nerves. The acuteness of his prediction was _unnerving_ him now, and the way Freud had cut to the chase immediately, even before Phantom used the best of the hundred excuses he had come up with. And he didn't press for details, as if he knew that Phantom himself didn't want to talk about it.

He scoffed. The humble dragon master had this air of mystery about him, and perhaps that was what Phantom quietly admired the most. It was what put them in two different worlds, after all, the way Phantom had to steal and pilfer and leave his insignias on walls and floors to make the world wonder at his skill, while Freud simply had to be everything he already was.

'A slightly sweeter one for you,' Freud was saying, as he pushed a steaming cup into Phantom's gloved hands, 'And one for me.'

They drank deeply, Phantom somehow finding the stomach to down half a cup of light, perfectly-sweetened tea.

'Even the master thief finds your brew palatable,' grinned Phantom, 'I'm tempted to hire you as my personal tea brewer.'

'You have better use for all that gold, you know.'

'Anyone would be hard pressed to decide what to do with _all_ of it.'

'I need materials for my alchemy experiments sometimes.'

'But then you'd be confined to your labs even more!' Phantom pulled a face. 'I rather take you to buy something completely outrageous. Maybe a new house, or a new bookcase, or a saddle for Afrien, or a pair of tailored shoes.'

'And yet with all the things you could buy, you find nothing that can soothe your nerves for one night?'

Phantom knew Freud's gaze was trained intensely on him, he could feel the weight of those eyes, bottomless like the oceans, looking him over. And unlike those mismatched orbs, and the way they _analyzed him_, Phantom felt like Freud was simply reading him, like a long-loved novel.

When the master thief gave no reply, Freud spoke.

'A nightmare?'

'I had some late-night inspiration to improve the mechanisms of Aurora's light magic,' drawled Phantom. Of course it was a nightmare. Whatever "inspiration" Phantom had, be it for stealing gold or for helping Freud with his work, or with a new strategy for the alliance, he had never once jumped out of bed for it. All that could wait for morning. And besides, the night was his. He alone would decide what to do with it.

'Ah,' The dragon master remarked simply.

The Master Thief found himself fidgeting, thoughts wandering. Not again… His trusty deck of cards was in his hand before he knew it. He cut it, flipped it from palm to palm, shuffled it, threaded the thin slips between his fingers so fast it was like magic. Nobody knew the lengths he went to in ensuring that every card was precisely the same thickness, infused with spells, several of the decorations lined with gold, ivory, onyx. He fed the cards from finger to finger, counting them, feeling the patterns under his fingertips. Each card was unique, a fortune in itself. Nothing less for a man like him. Cards between his fingers, forward, backward, upside down. Handling them required much patience, accuracy, and of course, required the skill and concentration of a master thief.

Concentration.

Anything to keep his mind away from that dream.

He had come by Freud's before in the middle of the night, woken by nightmares of Aria. The blood and feathers and her unmoving frame had always shaken him so much. Once he had cleared out his entire alcohol collection in one swig and his comatose form was discovered the next afternoon by Gaston, who had immediately requested for Freud to 'help the young master learn that alcohol wasn't intended to be ingested in such unholy amounts.' _Thanks Gaston, that was such invaluable help in such a dire situation. _But Freud did help, as he always did, by simply being there, to ease the ache in his chest somehow.

But whatever Freud did, and whatever Phantom tried, now it seemed that bad dreams were a permanent part of Phantom's nighttime.

'A nightmare. One not of Aria this time around.'

Phantom's smirk fell. He turned sharply to Freud, who was leaning back in his seat, cradling the teacup carefully in both hands, eyes barely open.

'And if I may hazard a guess, of someone whom you despise.'

'What makes you think I didn't dream of you, chopped up into tiny little pieces –' Phantom held out his thumb and index fingers to illustrate – 'by the fangs and swords of our enemies?'

'Because then you'd be distraught, not frustrated.' The dragon master's mouth was now curled in a very slight smile.

Phandom did not deny it. 'Are you falling asleep, dragon master?'

'I had a nightmare once,' he said, lips barely moving. 'I dreamed that Afrien was a hatchling and was zipping around the house setting fire to everything.'

'Oh, that would have been a blessing in disguise, believe me.'

'Not if I was about to be blown up by those flammable potions in my basement, now would it?' Freud chuckled. 'I believe he ate my best quill, too.'

'How _terrifying_.'

'It didn't help that Afrien had come home from hunting and was sleeping on the rooftop that night for some reason. His rumbling snores made it feel like the house was on the verge of exploding. And when I woke you wouldn't believe the speed at which I tore up the stairs to inspect my library.'

'Maybe you'd even beat Mercedes in her speed,' Phantom allowed himself a smile, knowing that the dragon master was trying to set his mind at ease and lighten the mood. He allowed himself to be swayed by Freud's calm, albeit sleepy demeanor.

'Maybe.'

'It was Luminous.'

A very heavy silence that settled between them.

'What?' Freud turned slowly to Phantom, those azure eyes opening widely in surprise.

'Luminous. I dreamed about him.'

'You didn't manage to kill him like you've always wanted to, I presume.'

'It was the opposite of cold-blooded murder,' growled Phantom, looking away.

That was all the cue Freud needed. The opposite of cold-blooded murder – it implied hot, passionate love. Even lust maybe. With an almost unnerving immediacy, the dragon master's face twisted and he had to hold a hand to his mouth to stop his chuckling.

'Thanks,' snapped Phantom, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks again.

'I promise I won't tell a soul,' said Freud, smiling.

'And you won't ever bring it up in future conversations, whether I'm alone with you, or with someone else. And you won't use it to tease me. Or try to imagine what happened. Or –'

'I know.'

'Cause it'd make you a _really_ lousy friend if you –'

'I _know_, Phantom.' Freud chuckled, and got to his feet, gesturing at Phantom's empty cup. 'Are you finished with your tea?'

'Let me,' muttered Phantom, after a moment's hesitation. He took the cup from Freud, finding it still warm from the heat of Freud's hands, and ambled into the kitchen to wash up. Hands under the running water, he wondered if his jibes about their friendship would ever reach a critical point before Freud called it quits. Phantom knew the man had patience but he didn't dare to push it, yet he found himself saying things he didn't mean half the time and maybe one day he'd find that it would be the final straw to break the camel's back.

Especially since their friendship was fragile enough as it was. Freud didn't have anything to trust Phantom about. It felt like Phantom was taking far more than giving. He was the thief, the one who stalked the shadows and pilfered from the nobles. Hell he was _the _Master Thief, the most awesome and well-known in all of the world, equipped the most fearsome skills to boot. Skills or no skills, he was thieving from the nobles and while he always justified it by saying_ they were undeserving of their wealth _but no hero should ever have such actions like these written on their report card. He didn't have any business with Freud, or even with the heroes, not with his pre-allocated reputation as Master Thief.

But somehow Freud found it in him to overlook it every time. While he hated Luminous, scoffed at Mercedes, and simply wanted nothing to do with Aran, Freud was his friend – and someone he stole the most from. Scrolls, quills, books, journals, herbs, powders, utensils, weapons, ectetera ectetera; these all could vanish in the blink of an eye and reappear a few days later in an odd place like in chimneys or in cooking pots. Phantom was a master prankster too, but Freud didn't even bat an eyelid when his most valuable potions disappeared and reappeared in the tree in his yard. So why? Anyone else would have been driven to insanity by his childish antics. Phantom shook his head to clear the thoughts and turned the tap off, giving himself a moment to recollect himself. Freud was logical. Phantom, however, was most likely not. And also, Phantom noted with a slight frown, the workings of Freud's mind was far beyond him. Whatever reason Freud had to trust him would probably extend to compensate for his jibes as well. Right?

'You're falling asleep, dragon master,' Phantom smirked, as he leaned against the wall opposite Freud. He lavished in the way the dragon master's face twitched, minutely but just noticeable enough for it to be caught, when he was roused from his sleep.

'Mm,' smiled Freud sleepily.

So unlike Luminous, Phantom found himself thinking. He had never seen Freud this drowsy before. Better make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

'You look like a kid.'

'I wouldn't know. Nobody else has ever commented on that before.'

But Phantom knew. He knew this, at least, and he ought to be given some credit for it. The unspoken words hung in the air as glaringly as a polished diamond under a display light. _Because I've never fallen asleep in front of anyone except you_.

'Because you're always pumping your veins with caffeine,' tutted Phantom instead. 'To stay awake at those endless meetings and to stay alert when you're in that stuffy lab of yours peering at little test tubes.'

'Mm. That too.'

So rare to see Freud who was too sleepy to talk. Chuckling, Phantom eased himself onto the sofa beside the scholar. 'You should thank me for doing your chores for you, dragon master. At the rate you're wearing yourself thin like that, you'll wither away in no time.'

'You can accept my thanks by making yourself comfortable here for the night,' murmured the dragon master teasingly.

'Comfortable?' Phantom grinned widely. The smile leaked into his voice. 'You _really _sure about that?'

'I'd say I am.'

'You'll regret it.'

Freud opened one eye and smiled. 'Do your worst.'

'Oh I intend to,' laughed Phantom, and promptly woke the dragon master up completely by resting his head in Freud's lap.

Freud tried to push him off. 'You've gone insane, Phantom –'

'Squirm and I'll help hatchling Afrien burn that library of yours.' Phantom grinned up at Freud, who was frowning in mock anger as he sank back into his seat. The dragon master wouldn't be able to harm him, for his cane was still tucked in his belt while the mage's staff was propped up against his desk in the study, on the second floor. Far out of reach. Beside the guest room.

Freud threw his hands in the air in genuine annoyance. 'You're the bane of my existence!'

'I live to please,' purred Phantom, clasping his fingers comfortably across his midriff and kicking off his shoes.

The dragon master leaned back in defeat. 'Thanks to you I'm going to wake up sore everywhere and with a crick in my neck if I sleep like this.'

'At least _I'm_ comfortable,' Phantom pulled off his hat and set it calmly beside him. 'Which is exactly what you, my dearest Freud, requested me to be in the first place.'

Freud placed a hand on Phantom's forehead. 'Before we go on let me check that you're not running a temperature.'

And Phantom let him. He felt every papercut, every scar from whatever experiment Freud had done, and every contour in his skin.

'So, what's my diagnosis, oh wise and always-so-knowledgeable doctor Freud?'

Freud removed his hand, closed his eyes and breathed in extremely deeply, as if to cool the blood simmering in his veins. 'Fatally insane. No cure for you.'

Phantom laughed.

This was the exasperated demeanor that he truly relished, because Freud could be calm in the middle of an earthquake, and during occasions where all the other heroes were demanding him for answers he didn't yet have, and when the whole world was going to shit – but put him on the receiving end of Phantom's ego and he would be ready to tear his hair out in frustration within minutes. How upsetting... everyone was supposed to love the Master Thief Phantom. But still it was Phantom's personal achievement, in a way, since he was one of the few (he hoped) that could crack through Freud's tough but cool exterior… and he always cherished such moments rather because it reminded him that Freud was just like him, far more human than he seemed.

The dragon master murmured something inaudible.

And Phantom couldn't help but smirk. 'What's that? You know, if you wanted to say something, you should say it outright. Such manners, dragon master.'

Freud didn't humor him with a reply.

Phantom eased his head off the dragon master's lap. And there it was, the rarest sight in the world, perhaps as legendary as the Skaia itself – behold Freud, the workaholic scholar, finally asleep! Eyes closed and breathing steadily, head lolling just slightly to the left, and lips slightly parted as if whispering the tiniest of secrets from his dreams. And in his sleep Freud looked exactly as Phantom said he did, like a kid. Like a boy again, free from the problems that his hero status and his great trove of knowledge placed on his shoulders.

And besides, Freud hardly ever slept anyway. Everyone knew him as the man who worked into the unholy hours of the night, and woke at the butt-crack of dawn. Phantom agreed with them. He was on the team that teased him when he insisted that he had slept the night before.

_Ah. But he couldn't say much now, could he?_

Drinking in the sight of his best friend, fast asleep, he was loathe to turn away to look for a pillow. After having found one, he very gingerly and timidly lifted the brunet's head and slipped it underneath.

'You won't wake up with that crick now, dragon master,' he smiled.

And although Freud seemed to have everything anyone needed, like potions, or books, or herbs… it was almost impossible to find two blankets.

'Two measly blankets,' coughed Phantom, when the dresser drawer yielded nothing but dust bunnies, 'Harder to find than the cure for night terrors.'

He finally resorted to tugging Freud's own blanket down the stairs, before he halted at the landing, unable to stop himself from grinning. The dragon master had one hand clutched tightly around the folds of his robe, and the other around the beak of his raven mask, and by the tightness of his knuckles it would seem that he was trying to hold someone as close to him as he could.

Phantom chuckled, his heart so full it felt fit to explode. He eased Freud's hands out of the way before trying his best to tuck him in, and then he lay back across the couch, staring contentedly up at the dragon master's calm and sleeping countenance. For a brief moment, Freud stirred and Phantom froze, but the young man did not wake, instead unclasping his hand briefly to take Phantom's sleeve in his grip.

Phantom smiled softly. _Great, I'll have to make do with sleeping like a log._

This chased away the nightmares, that's for sure.

'Goodnight Freud,' he murmured gently. 'And sweet dreams.'

For the next few seconds, he would fight the vestiges of unconsciousness clouding his mind, steal a bit more time just so he could drink in the sight of Freud smiling slightly in his sleep. This was a heist he would fail to pull off, and then surrender to the alluring grip of sleep, for tonight was not his to rule. But the night would grant him some respite in the dreams he would dream, of those deep azure eyes and the calm ocean – perhaps one of the most perfect nighttimes Phantom could ever dream of.

* * *

_A/N: __Written for a dear friend. Canon. _I don't completely disapprove of the entire phan/lumi pairing... but wanted to write some cutesy phan/freud as well, so I joined the two. 

_Edit 2/7/13: Huuuge thanks to Wormble3 to pointing out the time mismatch, I edited the story slightly to include Freud in this timeline. Whoops :P_

_Edit 5/7/13: My friend suggested Phantom whistle/sing the entire chorus of 'You are my Sunshine', so here it is!_

_Edit 9/8/13: Lots of horrific grammar and spelling errors. _


End file.
